Although very vivid pictures come to mind when I think of my earliest memories, they are just that, pictures, with no dialogue. Pictures of my cousin Keith and me sitting in my grandmother’s living room, at 6:00 am. We’d rush to the kitchen table to eat either cinnamon toast, or a “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” sized bowl of Malt-O-Meal. First we had to make sure our bowls were complete with melted butter, milk, and the perfect amount of sugar. I remember the flavor was so unbelievable, my cousin and I would try to fool one another into believing the other was done. The sole purpose in performing this act was so the last to finish could tease the first with his remaining tasty morsels. I remember the excitement I felt when the opening credits of “Speed Racer” began. Keith and I were singing along, what’s on next? The Amazing Adventures of Spider Man. The finale of our early morning cartoon festival being, Hanna Barbara featuring, “Space Ghost and Dyno Mutt. I remember the love I felt for my grandmother for walking Keith and I to school. At the same time, the embarrassment I felt for having to be walked. I fancy myself a storyteller, but it’s a fancy fantasy. Much better with pictures, but truly, what’s a picture worth? For me the connection between lyric, and image is all in the details.